22. Fiora

I didn't want it to come to this, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I'm pretty sure I got away without my two babysitters noticing, but as I scan the area, I'm still not sure. I didn't see them on the ferry, but knowing The Vault's owners, I wouldn't put it past them to hop on a helicopter and be here waiting for me.

Bobby sits across from me at the restaurant, eying me like a piece of juicy meat. Although he just turned twenty-seven, he still acts like he's back in college. Popped collars, chains, douchey sunglasses that went out of style years ago. I asked him to meet two days ago, and he brushed me off because "the yacht won't sail itself, Fiora."

But Bobby is Mason's best friend—or should I say was his best friend? It's still so hard to think of him in the past tense. He should be right here with us, blocking Bobby's lame attempts at flirting with me and getting us drunk on mimosas so we can head to a weekday afternoon game. Instead, I'm forced to listen to Bobby recount the tales of "babes on the boat" before I can even ask about anything else.

At least he brought his cute dog, Millie.

I scratch at the golden retriever's ears as Bobby talks about perfect weather for skinny dipping and how one-piece swimsuits are totally a crime against humanity. The only reason he has those "babes on the boat" is thanks to his rich father. Bobby is a trust fund baby through and through, coasting off the fame and money of his father's tech business. He used those funds to link up with the most prominent people in the city, including my brother.

When there's a break in Bobby's story, I finally get my chance to cut in.

"It looks like you're doing okay." I smile. "Thanks for coming to the funeral."

"How could I miss it?" He leans back in his iron chair. "I had to give Mase my proper goodbyes."

My heart twists at the word ‘goodbye.' I don't want to send Mason off anywhere. I don't want to say goodbye. Grief comes in cyclical waves. Sometimes I can act like nothing is wrong. Other days, memories of my brother choke me and make it hard to eat or speak without crying. Today, determination keeps the tears at bay. If anyone has information about Mason's personal life, it will be Bobby.

"Didn't you meet him for dinner a few nights before… you know?" I press.

Bobby picks at his teeth with his pinky nail. "Yeah, we went to that new place down in Pioneer Square. What was the name? Anyway. We didn't stay long; we went out on the town after. Man, Mase always had mad game. Two girls on his arms and another on deck."

I frown. I'm not very interested in my dead brother's pussy power. All I want to know is if he had any enemies or someone on his tail before he died.

"Do you know if anyone had it out for him?" I grab my mimosa.

"Nah, no one could stay mad at Mason." Bobby pauses for a second before he shrugs. "Though there was one guy who kept bugging him."

"Who?"

"I dunno. He didn't tell me. Just kept cursing about some asshole who wouldn't leave him alone."

Ugh. What am I supposed to do with that information? It's practically useless. Any douche in Seattle could fit the bill.

My phone rings, and for a split second, my brain betrays me and thinks, what if it's Braken? I freeze with the mimosa glass to my lips. Why am I thinking of him? The last time I saw him, he was two knuckles deep in my pussy. My body buzzed for a whole day until I finally gave in and finished myself off, but it wasn't even close to the same. I can still feel his body on mine and the press of his hard cock on my thigh. Add "leaves a woman hanging" to the list of reasons I can't stand Braken Frost.

But it isn't Braken, it's Marco. Again. He's called me multiple times over the past two days, and I haven't answered. I'm sure he's panicking. This is the first time I've outright ignored his attempts at reconciliation after a fight. I don't want to talk to him right now.

The call ends, but I get a message a few seconds later. The preview shows "When are you going to call…" before it cuts off for being too long.

I finish my mimosa with a large, annoyed swig and set it down. Just as I do, Bobby leans over and places his hand over mine.

"I hope you're okay," he says. It's the first time we've talked about me all day, and the softness in his tone is almost touching. "I know you and Mason weren't exactly close, but he was still your brother."

"Thank you, Bobby," I answer, because how am I supposed to respond to someone calling you out for your dysfunctional family relationships? "I'm doing all right."

"If not, you're always welcome aboard my boat. A party might just be what you need. Captain Jack Morgan and I are always here for you. In fact?—"

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. Why do I expect him to be sincere? He just wants to get in the pants of his ex-best friend's little sister. Gross. I turn to flag down the waitress for another much-needed mimosa when I lock eyes with the man of the hour.

Braken Frost.

What the hell is he doing here? His body reads casual as he strolls over, but his gaze is anything but. I can tell he's pissed off before he even opens his mouth. It's written all over his stupidly handsome face and in the way his broad shoulders are slightly too tense beneath his black jacket.

Goddamnit. Just what I need, another annoying man to deal with.

"Fiora," he calls in lieu of a greeting.

My body flushes hot. The last time he said my name, he was telling me to beg for him. The worst part is I almost did. But my pride is much stronger than my horniness. Even if the Frosts had nothing to do with Mason's death, Braken is keeping me in the dark and forcing me to find other avenues of information.

Based on his scowl, Braken is not too happy about my sleuthing.

I snatch back my hand from Bobby and wipe it on the bottom of my sweater dress.

"Braken. What a pleasant surprise." My clipped tone makes it clear it's in fact the opposite.

He comes to a stop directly in front of our table, cutting off any path for me to escape.

"I could say the same, but I'm not sure it would be the truth," Braken drawls. Which part is a lie, the pleasantness or the surprise? I don't have time to ask. He turns to Bobby and offers out a hand. "Braken Frost. Fiora's fiancé."

"Fiancé?" Bobby's eyebrows go as high as his forehead. "Why didn't you say anything, Fiora?"

I lift my left hand, showing off Braken's ring, the diamonds shimmering in the afternoon sun. Bobby whistles and finally returns Braken's handshake.

"Well, I'll be. I'm Bobby Thompson, nice to meet you."

"He's Mason's best friend," I add quickly so Braken doesn't get the wrong idea. A streak of cold lightning crashes in my ribs at the thought. Why do I care what Braken thinks of my relationships? "We were exchanging stories."

"I'm sorry to interrupt your reminiscing," Braken says politely, pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of his coat and wiping the hand that Bobby shook. "But Fiora and I have an engagement."

"Sorry," I breathe with an apologetic smile to Bobby. "Wedding stuff, you know."

I don't want to follow Braken back to his car and I definitely don't want to slip into the backseat with him, but I'll do anything to finally get away from Bobby and his boats. Plus, I don't want to make a scene, and something about Braken tells me that though he's being polite now… he won't hesitate to speak his mind and act however he chooses, regardless of who is watching.

"The helicopter is waiting," he says, the lack of emotion in his tone making me nervous. "We're going back to Heathens Hollow."